


Midnight Flight

by sunshinetina



Category: Football RPF
Genre: AU, Airports, Attraction, Awkwardness, First Meetings, M/M, Prompt Fill, Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-14
Updated: 2014-11-14
Packaged: 2018-02-25 08:30:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,435
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2615144
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunshinetina/pseuds/sunshinetina
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Both of them were knocked to the ground. Face-to-face. This was not Marcel.</p><p>But – fuck – this was the most gorgeous creature Marco has ever seen in his life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Midnight Flight

**Author's Note:**

> I am not saying this is yet another prompt fill for the footy ficathon (http://thesilverwitch.livejournal.com/31896.html?thread=701336#t701336) and, of course, yet another Götzeus one-shot, but I am saying it. ;d
> 
> P.S. Not really a fan of how this one turned out, but yeah... *blushes* Hope that you mildly like it, at least. ;d

Flying has always been an adventure for Mario. Even if by _flying_ it meant an hour-or-so flight from Munich to Dortmund. And even if he was a first class passenger.

 

Mario grinned at the air-hostess, politely stealing several more pretzels from her tray, then sank into his leather seat, chewing with the greatest pleasure one has ever seen. His Dre headphones were bumping the beat of the n-th The Weeknd song, and his upper body was moving in rhythm.

 

Marco, on the other hand, was half asleep in the _arrivals_ area of the Dortmund airport. Waiting for Marcel to arrive from London has always been exhausting – of course, he _had_ to take all the midnight planes. Marco yawned and walked around, stirring his third coffee and trying to keep himself awake as much as possible.

 

_Ding-dong. The plane from London has arrived._

 

Marco strengthened up and pouted when the voices kept announcing different planes ( _Munich? As if anyone was interested._ ) instead of announcing the arrival gate for the London plane. He shuffled, trying his best to take a front place, but was soon elbowed and pushed to the back. His phone buzzed.

 

‘Landed. Missed me?’

 

Marco snorted at Marcel’s voice in his ear, ‘Not even a single bit. Well, ok, waiting for you outside. I hope the three coffees were worth it.’

 

‘Seeing my beautiful self is always worth it, asshole,’ Marcel laughed in response, ‘Ok, waiting for my luggage. Will be there soon.’

 

Marco looked around and moved his neck left and right to wake up. Smirked when a brilliant idea crossed his mind. Years ago, on his birthday, Marcel had arranged for them to celebrate in Spain. When Marco arrived, Marcel jumped on his back (and, basically, embarrassed the shit out of him). Marco’s smirk grew wider as he mischievously rubbed hands and licked his lips. His eyes fixated at the door.

 

 _He must be wearing the Dre beats and a hoodie, as always. This would be easy._ Marco took several steps forward, facing the exit. People were starting to walk out and he stopped a short lady on her way.

 

‘This is the plane from London, right?’ she just nodded and he grinned.

 

Mario puffed while lifting up his suitcase and put his headphones down, arranging his hoodie. Immediately frowned upon remembering his family tradition every time he was coming to Dortmund. Long dinner, long talks, long... advices from his mother. Sighed. He took the midnight plane in order to avoid all those (although he knew he couldn’t).

 

He dragged his suitcase behind him and apologised to the old man he pushed on his way out. Turned around to help him lift his fallen suitcase.

 

Marco smiled once he saw the black hoodie and the headphones. Took a deep breath and sprinted as fast as possible, pushing people on his way, and threw himself over the man, suffocating him with a hug from behind. However, the other one was not prepared and half-turned around during the hug, knocking both of them to the ground. Face-to-face. This was _not_ Marcel.

 

But – _fuck_ – this was the most gorgeous creature Marco has _ever_ seen in his life. Chubby baby face, big brown eyes (looking at him with the greatest fear – ok, disregard that), plump dark-pink lips, and-...

 

‘I think I am not your person,’ _oh, God, his voice..._ Marco was frozen. His left leg was between the legs of the man, both his hands on his waist, and his nose was literally centimetres away from the other man’s. This was oddly... _arousing_. The man shuffled uncomfortably, ‘Could you...’

 

‘Heh, yeah, I’m-... yeah...’ Mario bit his lower lip, trying his best not to blush when the man ( _subconsciously, Mario, he didn’t mean it_ ) caressed Mario’s thigh with his hand. Blonde (and here Mario thought that he himself was ridiculous for taking care of his hair. The man was even worse than him... in the best way possible), taller than him, slimmer (whoa! But those are abs under his shirt. Not that Mario’s hands explored the other man’s chest involuntarily... no), and with the greenest green eyes ever.

 

Marco stood up first, harshly biting on his lips, and stretching a helping hand at Mario. The shorter man giggled nervously and took Marco’s hand (who is shaking right now – kinda hard to say) and also stood up. The two of them kept silent for a few seconds, before Mario realising his suitcase had fallen too and hurried up to lift it.

 

‘Um... Look, sorry for that,’ Marco scratched the back of his neck and bit his lips again. His eyes caught Marcel laughing his ass off at the near distance, ‘I-...’

 

‘You were expecting someone else. I get it,’ Mario nodded vigorously.

 

‘Yeah, that bastard over there,’ Marco pointed at Marcel and Mario chuckled upon spotting him, ‘He is even having fun, I can tell.’

 

‘He looks nothing like me.’

 

‘Fortunately.’

 

 _Damn. Fuck. Daaaamn._ Marco didn’t mean it like that but, logically, Mario took the negative meaning and looked at his toes, sighing under his nose.

 

‘No, I meant...’ Marco leaned down to look at the shorter man. Half-crooked a nervous smile, ‘I meant that it’s good he doesn’t look like you because then it would have been hard not to fall for my best friend.’

 

Mario lifted up his gaze and his eyes immediately stuck on Marco’s. Next thing Marco knew was his heart sinking in his chest when Mario smiled. _Well, hell, obviously, there could be a sunshine at midnight too_ , and Marco mentally cursed himself for getting all bloody sentimental.

 

‘How many coffees?’

 

‘Three.’

 

‘There you go. You are so zombified, you are complimenting random strangers.’

 

‘Technically...’ Marco shrugged, ‘You are not a total stranger. I’ve already been on top of you.’

 

Mario laughed again and Marco melted in a blushing smile ( _please, Marco, look more pathetic_ ).

 

‘And no, I never compliment randomly,’ Marco took a deep breath, ‘Are you from Dortmund?’

 

‘ _Technically_ ,’ they both smiled, ‘I was born in Bavaria, but my family lives here. My father is a university professor.’

 

‘Smartass, then.’

 

‘My father, not me. I am the dumb boy, listening to The Weeknd and having pretzels for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. And in-between the meals too.’

 

Marco’s eyes widened and Mario gulped when he saw a sparkle in his eyes (he took a mental note that he had new favourite colour from now on – the green of Marco’s eyes. _Pathetic, Mario, pathetic_ ), ‘The Weeknd are my favourites too!’

 

Mario chuckled and nodded slightly, ‘Look... Um... I should go. My parents would be mortified if I am not at home in half-an-hour, so...’

 

‘Don’t tell me you have a curfew.’

 

‘Why, you intend to break it?’

 

Mario’s daring comment surprised both of them, and he immediately looked at his toes again. The pink shade was creeping through his cheeks and he instinctively grabbed the handle of his suitcase harder. Marco let another half-crooked smile.

 

‘I am Marco, by the way.’

 

‘I saw the tattoo on your arm, while... yeah,’ Mario smiled, not daring to look at Marco, ‘I am Mario.’

 

‘Saw the suitcase,’ they both laughed and Marco took his phone out, ‘Wasn’t quick enough to see the number, though.’

 

‘Let me...’ Mario grabbed Marco’s phone and – much to the surprise of both of them – quickly typed-in his phone-number, ‘Here you are.’

 

‘Thanks,’ Marco nervously scratched his chin, ‘Um... See you around, I guess...’

 

Mario nodded and, biting his lip, dragged his suitcase to the exit. Marcel approached Marco and snapped his fingers at his face, taking him out of his trance.

 

‘Good thing you are wearing the widest jeans you have. Would be embarrassing the entire airport to see your boner,’ Marcel chuckled when Marco rolled his eyes.

 

‘His name is Mario.’

 

‘And he gave you his number.’

 

‘He did,’ Marco melted in another (pathetic) smile and Marcel sighed.

 

‘Ok, Marco, let’s go home. I am driving – you are too distracted to function,’ Marcel pushed Marco in front of him.

 

Mario entered the taxi and quickly said the address to the driver. Took his phone out and fidgeted it between his fingers. _Idiot,_ Mario cursed himself quietly, _should have taken his phone too. What if he doesn’t call? Idiot, idiot, idi-..._

_I have more tattoos, by the way._

Mario chuckled and quickly typed the response.

 

_Do you? And how can I see them? With you being on top of me again?_

Marco groaned at the back of the car and shifted uneasily. Marcel smirked knowingly.

 

_This time we can switch the positions._

Mario smirked, ignoring his burningly red cheeks, _Can’t wait._


End file.
